


Of Sun-Split Clouds

by zenelly



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Hair Brushing, M/M, am i projecting my love of zelos' hair onto lloyd? signs point to yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9035840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: For the Tales of Secret Santa 2016 event!   Night has long since fallen, and the candlelight glints gilt and golden in Zelos’ hair, which is why, Lloyd will maintain, he is staring.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serza5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serza5/gifts).



> For a Secret Santa gift, which is also helping me slowly mark off my tiny mental box of writing at least one thing for every fandom I'm in (*weeps quietly*)
> 
> But yeah, this is for tumblr user "serza5" who seems quite wonderful honestly, so I hope you enjoy! Title is from John Magee's poem "High Flight"

Night has long since fallen, and the candlelight glints gilt and golden in Zelos’ hair, which is why, Lloyd will maintain, he is staring. 

It’s a poor excuse, but after travelling since dawn it’s the best he can really do. They found an inn. He’s sitting on a bed. He’ll deal with feeling less exhausted later, once his mind manages to shut itself off. For now, though. 

For now, he’ll watch Zelos, laying on his own bed, and the tumble of his curls against the sheets.

Zelos’ hair is a fall of sunlight, tangled and spread over the bed as the Chosen idly brushes his hands through one small section of it by his shoulder, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. Lloyd wants to touch it, wants to tangle the curls around his hands. He wants in nameless, uncomplicated ways. Or at least ways that are uncomplicated until he starts thinking too much about them.

Zelos sits up just as Lloyd musters himself, turns to say, “Alright, buddy, this silence is-”

“Can I brush your hair?”

“-driving me, what?” Zelos blinks. One of his hands comes up, almost protectively, to touch his hair. “Can you - why would you want to brush my hair?”

Oh boy, okay, so maybe not the smartest thing to blurt out. Lloyd’s used to his mouth getting away from him, but this is a bit much, even for him. He opens his mouth, closes it, unaccountably shy now that he’s made an embarrassment of himself. Damn it. But forward, forward, ever forward, and Lloyd squares his shoulders like he’s readying his swords. “It. I just want to. You’ve been brushing just that bit of it. I thought-. I thought it’d be helpful.”

Unfathomable blue eyes examine him for long moments, and Lloyd meets them steadily.

“I don’t know,” Lloyd mutters as the silence continues past comfortable standards. “You don’t have to. I just thought I’d ask.”

Finally, Zelos shifts on his bed, carefully turning his back to Lloyd. “Just don’t pull it all out,” he says lightly. Light in the way that from anyone else would mean it was inconsequential but from Zelos means so much more.

Lloyd doesn’t muffle his smile or the way he bounces, excited, across the room to Zelos’ bed, taking up a position behind him. He carefully pulls Zelos’ hair behind his back, fingers just brushing the side of his neck as he does.

“Brush is on the nightstand,” Zelos says.

“Oh, right.”

He retrieves the brush, settles behind Zelos once more, and gathers Zelos’ hair. Carefully, he starts at the bottom, where the curls are densest, gently pulling the brush through them in a steady rhythm. Zelos’ hair is really well maintained, so he doesn’t encounter many knots, but this whole situation was never about Zelos’ hair being messy. After each stroke, his fingers follow, ungloved and careful to not pull.

It's like silk. Or what Lloyd imagines silk to feel like, anyway, unearthly smooth and warm. He settles into it, the repetitive action loosening the tension the long day of travel has worked into him. Over and over again, brush, stroke, brush, stroke, higher up until Lloyd is pulling in one, smooth line from the nape of Zelos’ neck to his back.

“You’re better at this than I thought you’d be,” Zelos says.

The suddenness of his voice, after so many minutes silent, makes Lloyd jump. He blinks a few times, tilts his head to the side, retracking the actual words that were spoken. “What, because my hair is so short?’’

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well. Colette used to let me brush hers out when she got stuff caught in it. And then sometimes just because I asked.”

Zelos’ laugh is more of a snort and a subtle shake of the shoulders, but it’s there. “You really like brushing hair, huh?”

“Pretty hair, yeah,” Lloyd says before he can think about it. Then he blanches, a nervous shiver working its way down his frame. Crap. Crap, crap, double crap. Triple crap, what in the name of  _ anything _ was  _ that _ ?

A shift, and one of Zelos’ blue eyes casts him a sly look over his shoulder. “No, no, feel free to compliment me more. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“So much in the world that’s red has been bad,” Lloyd says awkwardly, and beneath his hands, Zelos stills, looking forward once more. “It’s just. Really great to see something beautiful instead. And your hair is. Beautiful, that is.”

It’s a moment before Zelos responds. “Oh yeah? Like you’re really one to talk, Mister Scarlet Jacket. That thing is a fashion disaster and you subject yourself to it daily.”

“That’s different; my dad made me this!”

“I can’t believe you’re such a Daddy’s boy.”

Lloyd flushes, hot under the collar, and he uses his knee to nudge Zelos in the thigh. The action is retaliatory but gentle, almost fond. “Shut up.”

He, of course, gets shoved back for that. Lloyd pokes Zelos in the side, prompting a squawk both of them know Zelos will deny until his dying day, and honestly, it was only a matter of time before the wrestling began anyway. Professor would just say that they’re being boys probably, and-

Crap, Lloyd let himself get distracted. Zelos shoves his arm off at just the right angle, forcing him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him to hold him there. Zelos’ hair surrounds them, a fragrant fall of scarlet waves. Lloyd slides his free hand up, cupping the back of Zelos’s skull, and relaxes into the mattress, letting Zelos’ weight press him down. 

For a long moment, Zelos says nothing.

“First you brush my hair, then you get me on top of you. If you keep this up, buddy, I’m going to start thinking that you like me or something,” Zelos says, wry and quiet, hardly more than a breath, and Lloyd grins. He rubs his fingers in a small, gentle circle, the hair beneath his hands soft.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Zelos snorts. “Gonna make a guy start expecting things outta you.”

Quiet. “There’s nothing you could want that I couldn’t give.”

“Oho,” Zelos murmurs. “Don’t say that, country boy. You’ll make me want to prove you wrong.”

As has been the pattern not only for the night, but most of his life it seems sometimes, Lloyd says something without thinking. “Oh yeah?”

He gets the flash of a grin, the impression of it in the corner of his vision before he feels it against his lips. 

Lloyd blinks.

Zelos is kissing him.

Lip to lip to  _ tongue _ oh god, Zelos is kissing him.

Zelos pulls back, air returning to Lloyd’s lungs in a furious rush as Zelos’ mouth -the mouth that was just on his own- quirks to the side. “See, I told you-”

Lloyd’s hand is still curled into the soft baby hairs at the nape of Zelos’ neck. He  _ yanks _ \- ends up with his lips, inexpertly pursed, crashing into Zelos’ mouth, their teeth clacking together as Lloyd muffles whatever bullshit self-deprecating nonsense Zelos was about to spew about himself with a kiss. A poorly aimed, too enthusiastic kiss, Lloyd thinks, but a kiss.

“There is nothing,” Lloyd says again, fierce, a breath’s distance from Zelos, “you want that I  _ wouldn’t _ give.”

And Zelos smiles, ducks his head just a bit, enough to brush their lips together again. “Alright, buddy, but let me lead the kisses for a while okay? You almost took out my face doing that, and this thing is how I make money.”

Lloyd makes an offended sound, pushing him off to the side and rolling on top of him. “We’re out to save the world, and you’re worried about your face?”

“I’m surrounded by brutes! How am I not supposed to be worried -oh no, no no, Lloyd, no! No tickling, you  _ ass- _ ”

“I’ll show  _ you _ a brute!”


End file.
